


if you were church

by capra



Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: M/M, cake cake day, i make no apologies, kssc, shoma's monster cock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-12
Updated: 2019-04-12
Packaged: 2020-01-12 02:15:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18436943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/capra/pseuds/capra
Summary: "i want yuzu sobbing, kneeling over shoma, not even half seated onto him, thighs trembling with the effort of holding himself up. it’s so good, but he’s at his limit already, isn’t he?"Or, shoma's absurdly large cock and what yuzu does about it.





	if you were church

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cake_and_kuyashii](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cake_and_kuyashii/gifts).



> hi there, cupcake. have fun.
> 
> *
> 
> confess, my love, i'd know where to be  
> my sanctuary, you're holy to me
> 
> fic title, the above inspirational quote, and the fic epigraph, are from "Church" by Fall Out Boy.
> 
> *
> 
> This story is based on a narrow range of cherrypicked personality qualities culled from my personal and very biased interpretation of the publically available personas of real human beings who are, I am quite certain, not similar at all to how they're depicted here.
> 
> In short, it's complete fiction.

**_*_ **

**_oh the things you do in the name of what you love_ **

 

 

*

Yuzu’s cock bucks against his stomach, rock hard and springing despite the pain.

Finally, the admission rips from his throat, snarled on the edges of a raw sob.

“ _I can’t.”_

It’s deeply upsetting, the prospect that he’s failing this self-set challenge. Failing to fully take his boyfriend’s cock in his ass. He wants it on so many levels – to prove he can, to do something for Shoma no one else has ever done, and to feel it for himself, Shoma so deep inside of him that there’s no further to go. He’s dreamed about it, woken up from dreams of Shoma railing him so hard he screams, and when he jerked off he came so hard he blacked out again. Yuzu wouldn’t describe himself as a size queen, but he’s absolutely got a challenge kink, and he’s head over heels in love. So there’s nothing about Shoma’s monster cock - admiring it, jerking it, sucking it,  taking it - that doesn’t appeal to him on every level of his being.

But.

But, running as deep as that hunger, deep as that fixated lust, is the fear gripping him. The thought of taking anything more than he already has is paralyzing the instinctive hindbrain that doesn’t understand lube or preparation or stretching. And it’s not without reason.

They spent an hour and a half to get this far. An hour and a half of stretching and rimming and prep, of fucking Yuzu on Shoma’s hand, thorough and meticulous, until Yuzu was crying with hungry impatience, moaning with the frustration of feeling so stretched wide, and yet so empty. _“Do it already,”_ he begged, gritting his teeth, fistfuls of cotton sheet creaking as he tried and failed to control his writhing. _“Shoma, Sho, I’m ready, please, please, I’m ready. Fuck me, please, fill me, I’m ready.”_

That was fifteen minutes ago.

Right now, Yuzu is perched erect on his knees over Shoma’s lap, quivering. His stretched, hungry hole is filled - _so_ very filled - and he’s already panting for breath.

It went well, to start. They rocked together, shifted the angle, and Shoma moved further in, deeper up, slowly, steadily. Deeper than Yuzu had ever felt him before, pushing into his body, opening him up. Yuzu could feel the exact bulk of Shoma’s cockhead as it nudged deeper and deeper inside, and he shuddered as Shoma breached him deeper than anything he’d felt before. Anyone he’d ever had before. It felt profound. It felt important and real and significant, crossing a boundary of intimacy between them that they’d never crossed before. Joining completely.

And then, as Yuzu’s body drew tight around Shoma’s girth, tight and strong like an elastic band stretched to its fullest extent, Yuzu laughed softly in victory, thinking he’d succeeded, thinking they’d made it, and looked down.

And the bottom dropped out of his stomach.

There was still so far to go. So, so far, so much of Shoma’s length still visible and bare and exposed and _outside Yuzu_. Yuzu reached down, shakily touching his own thighs, sliding his fingers back behind his balls, to touch his slippery, lube-drenched rim. It felt tight, and thin, and the hard, hot girth of Shoma’s cock was stretching it to its limit. It felt good when he rubbed it, though, and he did, fingers moving almost on automatic, while his brain caught up with the situation.

All that work, all that stretching and rubbing and soothing, and he _still_ feels like he’s sitting on a soda bottle. So much of Shoma is inside him already, and when Yuzu clenches as hard as he can, deep inside, he can feel the side of Shoma’s shaft just barely caressing his prostate. He’s that thick. And, Yuzu realizes, he hasn’t even gotten to the thickest part.

Shoma is gifted not only in length but also in girth, and Yuzu’s body is currently trying to convince him that he’s a tiny, thin-boned twink and that this might literally rip him in half. Of course, because it’s Yuzu, fear is hardly a deterrent. He’s hard as steel against his own belly, aching and tiring already, and if he could will himself to success from the power of his desire alone, he’d be feeling Shoma’s hard pubic bone under his balls this very second.

Contradiction tears at him, shorting out his resolve, fraying his nerves, as the impossibility of this really, fully sinks in. He wants and he doesn’t, is determined and afraid, desperately hungry and already done. What else can he do but cry in overwhelmed paralysis, even as his hips squirm back and forth in little circles, moving Shoma’s cock inside him, making his belly quake with anticipation? Part of him wants to just say fuck it, shove himself down, and deal with the pain and no jumps for a week, no edgework without gritting his teeth.

But he literally _can’t_.

Shoma had warned him about this, about all of it, but Yuzu didn’t take him seriously. He assumed Shoma just hadn’t had a committed enough partner yet. He assumed raw stubbornness would be an asset in accomplishing this goal.

He was so wrong.

“I _can’t_ ,” Yuzu repeats. It’s small and wrenched, nearly a surrender.

“You can,” Shoma says, watching Yuzu levelly, holding perfectly still. He rubs Yuzu’s belly, palm flat against the hot skin, knuckles casually brushing his cock. Yuzu bites his lip, pointing his chin up to the sky, and whines. Shoma rubs harder, massaging the smooth, drawn-tight skin and hard muscle wall of Yuzu’s low abdomen, between the iliac ridges – the bones of his pelvis. There’s tremors there, in the muscle wall, and Shoma’s heavy, steady strokes smooth those shivers away. Yuzu whimpers again, and clenches his ass, inside and rim both. He’s surely to the widest point by now, right? If he believes that, maybe it’ll make it easier.

“You can, but shhh. Slow.” Shoma reaches between Yuzu’s thighs, under him, and wraps his fist around his cock just beneath Yuzu’s ass, holding it steady. The cockring around his base keeps his huge cock hard, allows him to give Yuzu all the time he needs.

“Up,” he coaxes, and Yuzu braces his hands on Shoma’s chest and pushes. His hips ache as he lifts up, one inch and two and three and more, all the way, until the fat ridge of Shoma’s head catches on Yuzu’s rim and sets off sparks. That’s good. Yuzu hums and rolls his hips forward, savoring that feeling, coaxing it out again and again. Shoma sighs, watching Yuzu raptly, pressing his lower lip between his teeth and popping it free.

“Hold on,” he says, a bit of warning, and uses his grip on his cock to change the angle. He aims it up, forward, and nudges back inside, slowly, smoothly. This bit is easy by now, these first inches, and Yuzu’s fingers curl into fists on Shoma’s chest, nails scraping, as Shoma drags the head of his cock across Yuzu’s prostate in firm, deliberate strokes. “S’good? It’s good?”

“So- so good,” Yuzu sighs. His eyes close, and he rocks his hips backward, fucking back onto Shoma’s cock. Shoma’s fist bumps against Yuzu’s ass on each stroke, controlling the depth, limiting it to just the first few inches, just the easy part. Slowly he starts to lose himself to it, to the feeling of Shoma’s impossibly fat, plush cockhead kissing his prostate over and over and over, steady and smooth, rolling together like a tide. Yuzu’s thrusts grow more ragged, and his hands on Shoma’s chest slip.

“Mattress,” Shoma pants, moving his hands to steadier ground. The angle’s not good that way anymore, and Yuzu tries to adjust again, flattening out his hips, splaying his knees a bit further. They find it again, a different rhythm, still a good one.

“This.” Yuzu pants, licks his lips, gasps as he fucks back harder, faster. Drilling deep into all his pleasure, tapping its wellspring and filling himself up. Priming himself. “This is just intermission.”

Shoma laughs and lifts his head, kisses Yuzu’s brow. “Mm-hmm.” He believes him.

* * *

Three hours previous, Yuzu had gotten greedy.

“This is good,” Shoma was murmuring, breath hot on the back of Yuzu’s ear. His voice is halting and dry and distracted. He’s pressing Yuzu into the bed, face first, laying flat over him, thighs spread wide, and the full weight and pressure and breadth of his body takes Yuzu’s breath away. It’s a simple position, a favorite: both kneeling, Shoma would take Yuzu from behind, and then lay him, gently, down beneath him, closing Yuzu’s legs as they went. A shallow angle and heavy, undulating thrusts; four inches, at most, of Shoma sliding inside of Yuzu, nailing his prostate on nearly every stroke. He’s so thick it almost aches, but every time they do this, he stretches Yuzu beforehand so tenderly, so patiently, even when Yuzu whines and writhes and pouts. And it’s always worth it; Shoma’s always right. Every time, when he takes Yuzu it’s easy as breathing. When he rolls his body over him, rocks deep inside, it feels like everything.

“So good, Sho,” Yuzu sighs, and twists his neck til he can kiss Shoma’s jaw, missing his mouth. He tries again, gasping messily against it, lips tripping on lips, as Shoma finds his prostate again and _pushes_ . _“Sho!”_

“You should come like this,” Shoma says, and it’s genuine; he doesn’t begrudge Yuzu anything. “Then we do it like usual?” As rough and messy as this is slow and steady, it would be cocks pressed between their bellies, frotting against each other, Yuzu’s entire abdomen tight and hard and slick from Shoma’s pre as he leaks and leaks and gasps into the crook of Yuzu’s shoulder, breath hiccuping and breaking apart in each soft grunt of need. Eventually the combination of scant friction and kissing and both of their hands working together get him within sight of his edge, nearly there. Maybe they finish him that way, and he comes under Yuzu’s belly, biting his lip or Yuzu’s shoulder or his own hand, hips jerking with almost violent bluntness against Yuzu’s as he soaks them both with his load.

Or maybe Yuzu flips himself around onto his stomach again, coats his thighs with slick, squeezing Shoma between them, and Shoma mounts him. He fucks into Yuzu’s thighs, hard and fast and careless in a way he can never be, otherwise, and growls when he spills into Yuzu’s hands, both cupped under himself, extending past the tunnel of his thighs to fit Shoma’s length. Yuzu interlaces his fingers together to catch Shoma’s cum, making it as messy as possible, getting it all between the webs of his fingers, and he can get himself hard again just from licking it off while Shoma watches.

‘Like usual’ isn’t bad at all.

But Yuzu shakes his head, presses his brow into the mattress to arch his shoulders and square his jaw. “I’m not giving up yet,” he says. Shoma rolls his eyes.

“Oh my god. We tried last time, it didn’t work. It’s okay.”

Yuzu shakes his head again, and he’s in full stubborn mode now, Shoma can see it in his eyes. “I want to try again,” Yuzu says, and Shoma knows that ‘try’ in Yuzu-speak means ‘succeed’.

“It doesn’t matter,” Shoma says, and Yuzu interrupts him so fast he’s almost snapping.

“It does to me.”

“Fine,” Shoma says after a long minute of them staring at each other, rhythm paused, something important and unnamed passing in the air between them. “But if you want to try this seriously, we’re going to use colors.”

Yuzu tips his head.

“I’m serious. Red, yellow, green. Okay?”

“I’ll just say stop if I need it, Sho,” Yuzu shrugs, but Shoma’s not deterred.

“You whine all the time. I need to know if it’s real whining or unimportant whining.”

“Hey!” Yuzu pouts, and shoves himself back for a nice strong thrust, because prostate stim is nicer than listening to this kind of abuse. Shoma’s palm smacks Yuzu’s ass in reprimand as his cock drills Yuzu’s prostate. It’s good.

“Yuzu.”

He presses his lips together. Warning colors are for when you’re doing scary stuff, stuff that could hurt, right? This is Shoma. Yuzu knows Shoma’s cock already, knows it really well. He’s taken part of it before, so what’s the big deal with the whole thing? It’s big, but it doesn’t look, like, _impossibly_ big. He’s fussing over nothing.

“Please.” Shoma turns on _that_ look, the eyes that get him pinned to walls and kissed stupid. Even though Yuzu can only see half of the expression, since he still can’t turn his head all the way round, it’s effective as hell. Shoma isn’t playing fair.

“Fine, okay,” Yuzu agrees, because whatever. It won’t be an issue anyway, right?

“Alright,” Shoma says, and pulls out of Yuzu entirely. “Ass in the air. You need stretched more.”

* * *

“Please, Sho, I can’t.” Yuzu’s voice breaks across a sob, but whether it’s from fear or pleasure he himself can’t tell. His gaze is locked with Shoma’s, but honestly it feels less like he’s holding Shoma’s gaze, or they’re holding each other’s, and more that Shoma has Yuzu pinned with his eyes, with the coal black heat in them.

“I’m trying,” Yuzu sobs, licking his lips. He shifts his knee, sliding it a few centimeters forward-- and then the sheet slips too much, moves him too far, and the bolt of sensation that rips through him in response nearly takes his knees out from under him entirely. He shouts, but Shoma is there for him, curling his back and shoulders up off the bed, off his wedged pile of pillows, in the fastest, most seemingly effortless, movement Yuzu’s ever seen him do. Shoma grips Yuzu’s slight waist, holding him up against the pull of gravity, fingertips digging in like a vise. Yuzu’s vision swims, but it’s not from Shoma’s hands. The girth in his ass is _impossible_ , and his brain keeps skipping the track like a scratched record: _It looks like it’s the same as the first part. How. Why? It doesn’t make sense._

When his vision comes back, Yuzu is looking at Shoma’s forearms, corded, and the veins that stand bold on the insides of his wrists as he exerts his strength to keep Yuzu up, to keep him safe. His thighs are quivering, and Yuzu realizes that if Shoma let go, his legs wouldn’t hold him. He doesn’t know how far down he’d fall onto Shoma’s cock – would it go all the way in, like a sword in its sheath, ripping fire along the whole way? Or would it buckle as they both collapse forward, felled by Yuzu’s limitations?

But Shoma’s got him, and he doesn’t have to find out.

“Yuzu,” Shoma says, and his gaze is still just as intense, but softer now, dark and wide, as he looks up (how is it still up? How is Yuzu _still_ kneeling so tall, speared through this deeply but still so far from his goal?) and studies Yuzu’s face, the intricacies of his expression, checking in on him. “Yuzu, color,” Shoma says, and Yuzu shakes his head, biting his lower lip. He shouldn’t need this, not for something this simple. Shoma’s hands tighten on Yuzu’s waist and he flinches, a little gasp.

“Color.”

Yuzu gulps. “Ye-yellow,” he says, hating it. Shoma nods, and exhales.

“Okay,” he says, with no judgment whatsoever, and Yuzu doesn’t deserve him, he doesn’t deserve this beautiful sweet patient boy. “Just breathe, okay? You’re doing really well. I--” Shoma licks his lips, considering. Whatever made him hesitate, Yuzu doesn’t know, but after a moment he continues.

“No one’s ever made it this far before,” he says, smiling softly. “Okay?”

“No one else ever _will_ ,” Yuzu snarls, possessive, sharp. Which is absurd – he should probably wait until he’s actually achieved this, in full, before he declares his own supremacy. But it’s not about how far he’s gotten, how much of Shoma is inside already, not really, because if it was, then knowing he’s already surpassed all of Shoma’s past lovers would feel good.

Instead it just feels sour, because it makes him _think of_ those past lovers, reminds him that he’s not Shoma’s first, that other mouths and hands and tongues have blessed this body before his own.

Shoma laughs. Yuzu’s legs are stronger again now, the flare of pain receding, and that means Shoma can safely let go of his waist. He reaches up to stroke Yuzu’s brow, brushing sweat-slicked bangs off his skin, out of his eyes. His fingers linger, caressing softly down the curve of Yuzu’s soft jawline, down to his chin. Shoma smiles, and traces Yuzu’s lower lip with his thumb.

“You planning on keeping this all to yourself?” he asks, quietly, and there, unseen since they began hours ago, is the vulnerability of Shoma’s heart, bared for a moment like a glimpse of movement in the underbrush. As shy as it is vulnerable, Shoma’s kept it back from this, kept it out of this bed, focusing all his confidence and reassurance on Yuzu. But Yuzu sees it, and he’s not going to let it get away without reassurance of his own.

“Every single inch,” he says, and exhales, from the bottom of his lungs, from his diaphragm, all the way up to the top. And he pushes down. He digs in his toes and knees to keep them from sliding again and he pushes down from within his body, around Shoma, above Shoma in the space he wants him to fill. And Shoma sinks in, a whole inch further in.

Shoma groans, and his palm smacks Yuzu’s thigh reflexively as he seizes up, loses control for just a moment. For this moment, Yuzu’s taken custody of Shoma’s heart, and it feels _good_ to watch Shoma’s face knot up in confused, gasping pleasure. It feels _good_ to kneel above him, like a conqueror, and do something that no one else has ever achieved. Give Shoma a sensation no one else has ever done.

* * *

It’s getting harder, so much harder, the further down he goes. He’s been taking it slowly, coached by Shoma, coaxed and supported. Of course he knows the steps. Stretch, press, retreat, wait; repeat. The human body is a machine of muscle. It can be shaped with training, trained with practice.

Yuzu thinks, maybe they should have gone about this differently. Maybe he should have planned more, spent a month in secret practicing with a series of plugs, getting himself used to the stretch. Maybe he should have told Shoma what he wanted to do ahead of time, what had been chewing at the corners of his mind for weeks - no, for months. Devouring his concentration, his every bedroom thought, since one conversation that flipped the Shoma part of Yuzu’s world on its axis.

Honestly, Yuzu’s not even sure Shoma remembers it, and he couldn’t really blame him if he didn’t, if he’d blocked it out. It was the kind of conversation that sneaks up on you, that starts playfully and ends in a mangled wreck, leaving you with whiplash in the wreckage of the good mood, wondering what went wrong. It happened on a lazy sunny morning like this one, laying sweaty together in the afterglow and talking filthy: about their firsts times, their favorite touches, their fantasies and wishlists, and their nevers.

* * *

_“Never?”_

_“Well, I mean.” Shoma gestures vaguely to his cock. Half-hard, he’s still bigger than anyone else Yuzu’s ever seen. “I mean, it’s not like I’ve had a_ lot _of offers, but.”_

_“Yeah, but… How many other people have you slept with?” Yuzu needs to know. Shoma looks down at him incredulously._

_“Is this really the right way to ask that?”_

_“Maybe not,” Yuzu concedes. He apologizes with a kiss to Shoma’s soft tip. “But I want to know later. I want to know who so I can hunt them down and tell them they’re insensitive, half-assed jerks.”_

_Shoma groans, and lets his head fall back against the wall behind him. Yep. They’re doing this now. “Yuzu, I’m not telling you my list of exes just so you can threaten them.”_

_“I’ll tell you mine,” Yuzu cuts in, knowing that’s not the point, distracting anyway. He cups Shoma’s balls in one hand, grips his cock in the other, pointing him upward. His hands are cool._

_“Can I just have a damn blowjob, Yuzu?”_

_Shoma feels cheated. How did his boyfriend get so distracted between ‘hey, can I blow you?’ and ‘yeah, that’d be great’ that the next thing out of his mouth was ‘have you ever put it all the way in’?_

_And why, why, had he asked_ that _question? Of all the possible ones?_

 _“I’m going to do it,” Yuzu says, but three seconds pass and there’s still no warm wet kiss of his mouth on Shoma’s head, no movement from his hands. Shoma picks his head up from the wall, wearily looks down at his boyfriend, curled indolently on the bed beside him, head and arms pillowed on Shoma’s thigh, looking up at him with fire in his eyes.  “I’m going to take your cock all the way.”_  
_  
_ “Oh, for--” _Shoma pushes Yuzu’s head away from his cock and clunks his head back against the wall. The bedsheets are an unmade rumpled mess around them from the morning. He thinks probably it would be best if he just scooched his way down under the covers and went back to sleep._

 _No such luck, because the mattress is dipping down beside him as Yuzu shifts, sitting on Shoma’s left with his back against the wall. Yuzu’s hand is on his thigh, light, careful, so worried._ Fuck. _Shoma scoots away, shuffling down to lay flat on the mattress, on his back, and throws one arm across his eyes so he doesn’t have to look at the painfully bright ceiling, or the painfully open expression on Yuzu’s face._

 _“What did I say wrong? Do you not_ want _to fuck me?”_

 _“I fuck you,” Shoma mutters, exhausted, giving up entirely on avoiding this. His half erection is long gone, his_ desire _for one has permanently emigrated to Antarctica, and his stomach feels hollow. “We fuck already. We do everything. Isn’t that enough?”_

_“But now I know you’ve never gone all the way in with anyone. Not just me. And every time we fucked before you just said--”_

_“Yeah, that I don’t want to. Because I don’t. Want. To.”_

_“You don’t want to feel that?”_

_“Feel you flinching and crying because my stupid huge cock broke your ass?” Shoma’s voice is pure, undiluted acid._

_Yuzu’s silent. Shoma doesn’t even have to look - he knows what he’d see. Yuzu’s eyes are wide, hurt, internalizing every single possible permutation of this that could somehow be his fault. Fuck. This was why he didn’t want to have this discussion with Yuzu. Not now, not ever._

_“You can fuck me,” he says, trying to pacify, trying to offer a consolation prize. Even though this is Yuzu, and if you look up ‘consolation prize’ in the Yuzu Dictionary you’d probably see, like, poison. Or his least favorite food, or something._

_“You can fuck me, and I fuck you, and you like that, right? Have you been lying about liking--”_

_“No!” Yuzu cuts him off, fast, with a little panic. Meanly, Shoma’s glad to hear it. “No, I_ love _it. I love you fucking me. I love_ you. _”_

_“Then let it go, okay?” Shoma is so tired. “Please.”_

_“You don’t think it’s possible?”_

_Shoma groans. “I don’t need to do it. I’m satisfied, Yuzu. What we do is great.”_

_Yuzu is tenacious. “But do you think it’s impossible?”_

_“I-- I don’t know, okay?”_

_“Tell me.”_

_“Yuzu.” Shoma curls onto his side, facing away from Yuzu. He can feel his whole body drawing tight, tense. He’s bracing himself against this, and Yuzu just won’t stop. Shoma doesn’t know how to make him._

_“Come on, guess. Do you think it’s really completely impossible?”_

_“I don’t know.”_

_“Shoma.”_

_“I don’t_ know." 

_“Come on--”_

_Shoma snaps. He shoves himself up, whirls on Yuzu. His throat is tight, and he realizes he’s teetering on the verge of breaking into tears._

_“_ **_Yes._ ** _Yes, okay! Yes. It’s impossible. Alright? Is that what you wanted to hear? I have a stupid scary monster cock and I can’t fuck you right,_ **_ever._** _”_

_It isn’t satisfying, the hollow expression on Yuzu’s face, the look of slapped-stunned shock. Shoma sinks back down onto the bed, feeling wrong, feeling broken, feeling cruel, and hating that last one the most.  “There. Are you happy?”_

_Even though he suspected it was coming, Shoma’s still not ready for the gentle, tender descent of pressure and warmth across his back and side as Yuzu curls up behind Shoma, wrapping himself tight to each bend and curve. His breath is hot and shallow against the back of Shoma’s neck, and while Shoma’s managed to hold off his own tears, Yuzu has not. They’re warm and feel uncomfortable, running down Shoma’s neck. He figures he deserves that._

_“No,” Yuzu murmurs, and kisses Shoma’s nape. His arms squeeze tight around Shoma’s middle, and he sniffs miserably. “No, I’m not happy.”_

* * *

Thus, that Yuzu's inspiration for his plans was also his reason not to reveal them. Determined it would fail from the start, Shoma wouldn’t have gone along with it, wouldn’t have wanted to see Yuzu spend so much time and effort - wouldn’t _himself_ have wanted to spend so much time and effort - only to be disappointed in the end. He would have closed himself off, braced himself against heartbreak he expected to jump out and crush him at any time.

Yuzu was determined it would not go that way. More than his obsession with his boyfriend, and his boyfriend’s cock, and the _size_ of it, what drove Yuzu was the desire to erase.

Monster cock or no monster cock, Shoma isn’t any less fuckable, and Yuzu’s going to prove that.

* * *

Yuzu isn’t sure which one of them is more surprised, himself or Shoma, by the way the last long distance down goes.

He’s been working his way through it. Press, sink, hold, retreat, rest. Repeat. He’s not going to lie - the fact that it’s methodical eventually stops making it easier. The progress he’s making feels too minute, too slow, and while he knows, logically, that neither of them are in a rush - that it’s still safe to leave the ring around the base of Shoma’s shaft for an hour, and that they’ve not burned through nearly that much time yet, it still feels...Well, if nothing else, _he’s_ losing patience with _himself._  He starts pushing himself just a bit further on each pulse down, holding it longer, resting for a little less time between that and the next one.

As Yuzu works at this, wearing down his body’s resistance one degree at a time, Shoma’s encouragement is cautious. He watches Yuzu quietly, rubbing Yuzu’s thighs with flat palms. He lifts his hands, fingers softly curled, to stroke Yuzu’s flank or his chest each time he doubles forward, shuddering, breathing through the overload. Even though he’s gone nearly entirely passive by this point, putting the control in Yuzu’s hands, Shoma is still attentive, still _here_ for Yuzu, worried about him, caring and loving. And, Yuzu thinks, not convinced that Yuzu is going to succeed.

Yuzu doesn’t take it personally. Mostly.

More rocking, more slow progress, more deep breaths. It’s probably only another two minutes, but it feels like an eternity, before Yuzu licks his lips and lifts his head, focusing his gaze on his boyfriend, laying very still beneath him.

“Shoma?” Yuzu’s voice is light, cramped by everything else that’s taking up space where his lungs should be: anticipation, determination, fear. It feels even as if Shoma’s in there, pushed so deep inside Yuzu’s body that he’d strike his heart if he thrusts too hard.

Or maybe that’s just Yuzu’s heart pattering as Shoma opens his eyes, dazed, and finds Yuzu’s.

“Sho, color?”

Shoma _snorts_ and laughs, breathy but real. Focus settles back into his eyes with comfortable ease. Yuzu smiles back.  
  
“Green,” Shoma says, and reaches up to cup his palm against Yuzu’s cheek. Yuzu cups his own hand over Shoma’s, tipping his head into the touch.

“Green for me too,” Yuzu says, and licks his lips. “It feels better now.”

“That’s good,” Shoma says. Yuzu notices the flicker of suspicion crossing his face, furrowing his brow for half a second, but says nothing. Shoma’s allowed to feel skeptical. Everyone does before an impossible achievement is made.

Yuzu sits back, sits up as straight as he can, splaying his toes on the sheets. He shifts his weight off his knees, onto his feet, and carefully shifts his stance. Left knee and foot still digging into the blanket, Yuzu shifts his weight onto his left side and brings his right knee up, helping it along with a tug. He scoots his foot into place at Shoma’s hip, instep pressed against the iliac crest of bone, and exhales. “Okay,” Yuzu begins, as he shifts his weight back to center, balanced equally on his right and left sides. “Really, I think I’m--”

The rest is lost in a reflexive, animalistic yowl. Surprise, alarm, confusion; the sound hangs in the air above him, pulled up out of his lungs, as the rest of him drops down. Something about the angle - the shift in his weight - _something_ \- and suddenly, everything had lined up, and Yuzu sank down.

All the way down.  
  
Yuzu sucks in a shuddering, wrenched breath, crying with it, as he tries to make sense of what just happened. His belly feels suddenly sore, like he’s been punched, which surprises him because isn’t it his ass that should be feeling the pain right now? He’s fully seated onto Shoma, and that means he’s just taken that last length in a single go, and that’s _after_ all the rest he’d already taken.

Wait.

_He’s fully seated onto Shoma._

Wide-eyed, Yuzu finds Shoma’s gaze. Equally wide, equally shocked. But where Yuzu’s working through a sudden blunt thud of pain, and a shift in his discomfort, Shoma is clearly working through something much more intense, and much simpler.

“Yuzu,” Shoma breathes, and his hand is shaking when he reaches up. Yuzu meets Shoma halfway, catching his hand in both of his own. He squeezes, strokes his thumb over the back of Shoma’s hand, and kisses it. Kisses his palm, kisses the heel of his hand, kisses the back of his hand and his wrist, everything he can reach. He can’t bend forward yet - he hasn’t fully figured out what happened, but he instinctively _knows_ that he needs to hold still until he does - so his overwhelming need to kiss Shoma has to be taken out on his hand.

“You’re inside,” Yuzu breathes, and there’s tears at the corners of his eyes. He did it. He _did_ it. “You’re all inside me, Sho.”

Shoma’s looking everywhere at once, Yuzu’s face and chest and inner thighs splayed wide around Shoma’s hips, his lifted knee and his other thigh sloped down, his half-soft cock laying against his thigh. The dark patch of Shoma’s pubes, his groin, directly under Yuzu, pressed to Yuzu’s inner thighs. It’s not processing. Shoma’s head is swimming with an intensity of pleasure he didn’t know he’d been missing out on, and his heart is cracked open and overflowing with the size of his emotions.

And then his gaze stops scanning, snags on one particular detail, and his eyes go - impossibly - wider.

“Yuzu, I’m…”

Tentative, almost fearful, Shoma touches Yuzu’s belly. Just to the left of his bellybutton, an impossible distance above his iliac cradle, above his own cock, there’s a _bulge._ Shoma’s fingers touch the skin there, feeling the contour of muscle and fatless skin stretched taut over a broad, firm intrusion that’s distending Yuzu’s body from within.

Yuzu bends his spine, leaning back, and cranes his head down to see. As he leans back the bulge gets _bigger,_ becomes more clearly defined, as Yuzu leans away from it and it holds still. It’s impossible. It’s unreal.

It’s absolutely, undoubtedly, Shoma’s cock.

“Holy shit,” Yuzu breathes, and cups his palm over it. He squeezes softly, gauging the size, the firmness, and Shoma gasps.

“I felt-- Yuzu, I felt that,” Shoma stammers. Helpless, fascinated. His blood pulses in his ears, making him lightheaded as it rushes down, into his cock. He feels his cock, head and shaft, pulse under Yuzu’s palm, and by Yuzu’s expression, Yuzu felt it move, too. Under his palm, through his muscle wall.

“Are you okay?” Shoma asks, his voice shrinking down to nearly a whisper. Holy shit, he’s broken his boyfriend.

But Yuzu only lets his hand drop away from his belly and inhales, tucking his hips back, curving his shoulders forward and his back away. It’s a beautifully strict posture, back arched, and in another context Yuzu might stretch his arms back, then snap them out to the sides and up, making wings. In this context, he grabs blindly behind himself for support, and finds it on Shoma’s thigh just behind his own ass. His gaze is locked on his belly, and on the way that his posture, belly and spine artificially drawn taut and back, makes the bulge of Shoma’s cock even more visible.

“Look at that,” he breathes. He traces the long, broad rail of it from the top, starting at Shoma’s head and following down Shoma’s length, fingers touching down so lightly to his own skin that it almost tickles. He follows the line of all the way down his belly until it disappears around the level of his pubic bones, where the path of his body that it’s filling is angled further back, further from the surface.

“Touch it, Sho,” Yuzu sighs, releasing the tension from his spine and belly. The bulge is still visible even as he relaxes, though more shallowly. And as Shoma’s fingers touch it, hesitant, Yuzu lifts his hips. Just an inch or two up, then back down; he tests the slide, the pull of his body stretched around Shoma’s base. It’s good, actually - and he can tell that it’s going to get _really_ good as soon as he gets moving a little more.

But first, Yuzu has to memorize Shoma’s expression, his look of dumbfounded wonder and amazement and fear and lust, all tangled up against each other.

“Feel yourself moving inside me, Sho,” Yuzu says, and cups his hand behind Shoma’s, presses his palm firmly to Yuzu’s belly as he undulates, as the bulge of Shoma’s cockhead moves silently under their touch.

Shoma comes.

It’s sudden and choking and harsh, and he curls forward as it takes him, curling toward Yuzu, reaching for an embrace he can’t quite get to in time. His cock bucks, and under their layered palms, Yuzu can feel it moving as Shoma shoots inside him.

Yuzu’s a ways away from any orgasm of his own still, so there’s nothing distracting him from watching Shoma’s. He grips Shoma at the shoulder and behind his neck, holding him up, as Shoma grunts and whines. Shudders punch through him, and each time Shoma jerks in Yuzu’s arms, Yuzu can feel Shoma’s cock jerking inside of him, too.

Shoma turns his face up toward Yuzu, seeking the coital kiss that he always wants in the midst of his climax, and Yuzu bends to give it, tucking soft moans between Shoma’s lips. He memorizes what he saw in Shoma’s expression: plaintively open and bare, hiding nothing, washed over with a pleasure so deep that Yuzu hesitates to call it orgasmic. There’s something deeper than orgasm, something more profound, more like awe, and maybe that’s closer to what’s held in Shoma’s wide unseeing gaze.

Shoma has never felt the entirety of his cock engulfed before. Never felt it cradled hot and precious and tight, down to its base, within his lover. He’s never known what this depth of connection feels like. And Yuzu preens, swelling with pride, because now Shoma has. Yuzu gave him this.

Shoma comes down, slowly, and Yuzu watches coherence come back into his eyes. He rocks his hips softly against Shoma’s, welcoming him back to the land of the coherent. Shoma groans, disoriented, and flops heavily back, flat out on the bed, one arm thrown over his eyes.

“Did I just…”

“Yes,” Yuzu hums, cupping one palm over his belly and rubbing the bulge still warping his perfect cute flat tummy. “It was amazing.”

“I didn’t mean to-- Yuzu, I…” Yuzu shakes his head, smiles til his eyes disappear into it.

“I’m so happy,” he says, reaching down. Shoma reaches up, though it’s not far enough.  
  
“Come closer,” Yuzu grumps. "I don't wanna move."

A laugh shakes free of Shoma, a disbelieving breath huffed hot into the still air. "I _can't_ move." Yuzu laughs, too stunned for anything else.

With an effort, their hands meet, and they embrace each other that way. It’s enough for a while, until the tremors fully recede, until they feel capable of trying for more. Once they’re ready, Yuzu brings his right leg down til he’s evenly kneeling again, and tucks both his feet back, tucking his toes under the broad plush curves of Shoma’s ass. Ass still firmly planted in Shoma’s lap, legs folded around to hug Shoma’s hips, Yuzu folds himself slowly, haltingly down, until he can rest his cheek on Shoma’s chest and listen to his heart thundering away. For a few long moments, they’re quiet together, catching their breath and taking stock of their bodies, of all the new sensations they’ve discovered together.

Yuzu breaks the silence with a smug little _hmph._  “I told you I could do it.”

Shoma smacks his shoulder. “You’re such a brat.”

“But you love me,” Yuzu trills, pressing his cheek to Shoma’s chest. A happy shiver starts in his toes, crawls its way up his body, knees to butt to back to ribs to collarbones to scalp, fingers to elbows to shoulders to spine. He squeezes Shoma tight as he can, arms and thighs and inside, too, gripping in a rolling wave that makes Shoma’s jaw clench, biting a yawn in half.

“We are _not_ doing this every time,” Shoma says, poking Yuzu’s shoulder sleepily. Yuzu nuzzles his chest and shrugs.

“I think I’m addicted to it now, though,” he says. “So you gotta.”

“I don’t _gotta_ anything,” Shoma grumbles, before he processes the rest of what Yuzu said. “Addicted?”

Yuzu chuckles. Exhales, shaky, replaying the last half hour. “Nobody else is ever going to be big enough for me ever again.”

Shoma inhales. Holds it. When he exhales, it’s steadier. “I really. I didn’t think you could, Yuzu. I didn’t think anyone…”

There’s a fire of vindication in Yuzu’s chest, burning with a flame so hot it’s blue.

“They were all wrong. I did it.”

Shoma nods, not trusting himself to speak. Yuzu pushes the point, watching Shoma’s chest rise and fall under his own cheek.

“You’re worth the effort.”

Shoma’s breath pauses, just for a moment. It resumes, off beat of Yuzu’s now, and he tsks. Still trying to force a bit of brusqueness. Yuzu pretends he doesn’t see through it. “Did you want me to praise you?”

Yuzu pushes himself up, only far enough to cross his arms across Shoma’s chest and pillow his chin on his hands. “I’m ignoring that.”  
  
Shoma yawns. He’s pretty sure they shouldn’t fall asleep like this. It isn’t going to be comfortable for much longer. And for that matter…

“How does that not _hurt?_ ” He stretches his arm out as far as it’ll go, curves his fingers around the curve of Yuzu’s ass on one side. He can’t reach all the way to center, to feel delicately around the point of their joining, so he settles for stroking Yuzu’s thigh, up and down its breadth.

“You mean being on you?”

“No, the bit with your--” Shoma flushes.

“Ohhh.” Yuzu’s smile curls at the corners, going utterly wicked. “That was _so cool._  I bet if I didn’t have such a strong muscle wall you could have felt yourself even clearer,” Yuzu says, all innocence, and Shoma shudders.

“Can we-- not talk about that right now,” he mutters, turning his face away. His jaw is already splotched red, and the blush is spreading down his neck and across his chest.

“Why not?” Yuzu wiggles his ass, clenching around Shoma’s cock, which - still trapped in the cockring - is still thick and half full. “I’m up for round two if you are, and it feels like you _are._ ”

“I will throw you off this bed,” Shoma says, as grumpy as he can possibly manage. The effect is rather ruined by the way his dick twitches. Yuzu laughs, reaches up to ruffle Shoma’s hair, and grinds back, rolling his ass. Shoma closes his eyes.

“Don’t you think this was enough? For one day?” Shoma’s voice is thick, and his words sound wooden. Maybe Yuzu would be touched by his attempt at selflessness, at looking out for his boyfriend’s wellness and safety and limits, _maybe,_ if Yuzu had come already. Or if he’d gotten Shoma off with the cockring off, so he could fully let go. If it had hurt. If getting down to the base, getting fully seated on Shoma, had hurt - or felt bad, in any way.

_If._

“I want to feel it again,” Yuzu hums, lips dragging on Shoma’s skin. He kisses Shoma’s breastbone, nibbles. “I want to be the only one you come inside of. Ever again.”

Shoma growls, and gives up on self control.

**Author's Note:**

> look at that word count. nice.
> 
> I quite literally could not have done this without the incredible help of KSSC, but most particularly, specifically, delightfully, and shamelessly: @shomaun_ho, my co-schemer, co-plotter, and thoroughly generous beta. Thank you so much.


End file.
